


Only Human

by wordstothewisereaders



Series: Destiel Works [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Self-loathing!Dean, angsty stuff with fluff to make up for it, insecure!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:15:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstothewisereaders/pseuds/wordstothewisereaders
Summary: Some nights, after the most unbearable of days, Dean rubbed the space between Cas’ nonexistent wings, making sure to let the former angel know that everything would be okay. Some nights Dean falls apart. A particularly brutal hunt or nightmare throwing him over the edge of self loathing. It was then that Cas would step in, resting his hand on the handprint shaped scar he had left so long ago to remind Dean of what he was really worth while holding him impossibly close. Some nights Dean and Cas clung to each other, numb from the adrenaline and sorrow of a compromised or gruesome hunt. They would lie together, tangled in both the sheets and each other, and simply breathe together. There was no pain. There was no sorrow or sympathy. There was simply existing. Maybe that was what made them work so well together: not the times when they fought and madeup beautifully or when they shared life altering experiences, but the times when they just held on.





	

Castiel x Dean Winchester  
Words: 1,625  
Warnings: angst, nightmares, mentions of blood, self-loathing!Dean and insecure!Cas, mentions of Dean's time in Hell

***

Some nights, after the most unbearable of days, Dean rubbed the space between Cas' nonexistent wings, making sure to let the former angel know that everything would be okay.

The blankets were unbelievably warm over Castiel, heated by the man laying beside him. On a normal day, he would have appreciated the comfortableness of it all. He would have relished in Dean's closeness and would have woken up happy. Today was not a normal day. Today, the world was dreadfully muted and impossibly loud at the same time. He could feel the weight of all of his failures bearing down on his shoulders strongly like it did occasionally. He wanted them to stop and leave him be, the voices of those that he had dissapointed most. But to no such luck, he was left to the harsh world for at least a good 24 hours.

Cas burrowed closer to Dean, burying his face in his freckled chest in such a way to alert his hunter in the subtle way he would pick up on. Dean picked up immediately, senses sharp for someone who was so close to sleep. Cas loved his warm and gentle touch moving over his arms and back, meaning only love and good things. His eyes met the hunter's, tears already welling numbly.

"One of those nights, huh?" Dean asked softly, pressing a warm kiss to his forehead.

Cas merely nodded before returning to his earlier position.

Dean moved his hand to Cas' back, navigating his fingers to the space in between where his wings used to be. Now there were only two nasty looking scars that would be there forever. Dean moved his hand up and down, rubbing the space like there was something there more remarkable than human skin. He remembered the night that he tended to those wounds and was eternally grateful that Cas had miraculously survived with only the scars to show it.

Cas stiffened at first, his involuntary reaction in sync with his insecurities. Slowly, he loosened up, melting into Dean's warm touch. Dean always knew exactly what Cas needed, for he had those days too, and it was one of infinite reasons that Cas loved him so much.

The gentle action of Dean's hand was soothing. Its location reminding him that even though his power was gone, what he gave it up for was worth so much more. Cas let a tear slip loose, allowing himself to be vulnerable for once because he knew that Dean wouldn't judge him. He was in his safe place. He buried his face deep into Dean's shirt, hiding his face.

"It's okay. I love you, Cas." Dean whispered.

There was something beautiful about Dean's words. Maybe it was because it had taken him years of pining and several more of dating to finally speak them. Maybe it was because all that needed to be said, the profoundness of the bond that they shared and the hardships endured that pronounced their undying love, was released in that soft and meaningful tone.

A gentle kiss was pressed to Cas' forehead and strong arms were embracing him, pulling him through the fog to a place, the place, that he was meant to heal.

***

Some nights Dean falls apart. A particularly brutal hunt or nightmare throwing him over the edge of self loathing. It was then that Cas would step in, resting his hand on the handprint shaped scar he had left so long ago to remind Dean of what he was really worth while holding him impossibly close.

Dean woke screaming and grasping desperately for a hold on something, anything that would anchor him. He was too shaken by what he had seen to even think about the possibility of sleep. His outstretched hands landed on Cas'. He was sweating, a fine layer of moisture covering him, and the sheets were a tangled mess pooling at his waist. Cas sat beside him with a look of concern written clearly over his face. He hovered over the hunter like a worried mother.

The nightmares had been occuring since Dean was four in numerous variations that evolved over the years. At first, it was his mother burning. Later, it turned into the terrible things that his father had dragged him into and done to him. As more and more were lost to the terrible profession, Dean's dreams became haunted by his losses and even moreso by his actions. This was no different. He had seen the black eyes and blood staining the floor under his feet. He had seen the dead bodies of Sam and Cas and everyone he had ever really loved piled before him. Even worse, he had watched himself do it, dragging them through a terrible cycle of pain that could only have originated from his time in Hell.

While Dean knew that it would never happen in reality, he could see the cruel, poetic symbolism playing out. Each time he screwed up, each time he took it one step closer to the Devil or any other beyond-evil force, he was digging the graves of those he loved most an inch deeper. It was enough to drive anyone insane.

Before he realized it, a hot sting was biting at Dean's eyes and stray tears ran down his cheeks. It felt almost impossible to hold in his opressed emotions for much longer.

Some nights, Sam had reasoned harshly before, you just had to break.

Dean rolled into Cas, burying his face in the former angel's t-shirt. He breathed in the familiar scent that he could never quite pinpoint, though it smelled breifly of honey and aftershave. He felt Cas' soft touch, carding his fingers lightly through his hair.

Cas gathered the hunter in his arms, moving himself to his side and pulling him tight to him. He watched Dean's internal conflict silently. Cas moved his hand to Dean's shoulder where the handprint was from so many years ago, aligning his fingers with the marking. He felt Dean melt into him on the contact and knew that maybe he was helping. 

Dean let out a breathy sob, sparing himself the formailities of the normal heartfelt speech that usually initiated this level of emotion. The hatred and fear running his thoughts were incomprehensible to anyone that hadn't experienced it before. He was shaking still, body trembling and heart speeding up. He sighed, slowly moving his forehead to rest on Cas' shoulder and noting the damp spot on his shirt.

"Dean, please...It's alright." Cas said, pleading for his hunter to be okay.

It was very rare for Dean to break, and when he did it terrified Cas.

Dean shook his head burrowing closer.

"I love you, Dean." Cas murmured tenderly.

There wasn't a verbal reply, but a distraught kiss to Cas' shoulder. No more words were said, they did not have to be. Instead, Cas held on with everything he had, promising Dean silently that he would be there always. No one was going to desert Dean Winchester again.

***

Some nights Dean and Cas clung to each other, numb from the adrenaline and sorrow of a compromised or gruesome hunt. They would lie together, tangled in both the sheets and each other, and simply breathe together. There was no pain. There was no sorrow or sympathy. There was simply existing. Maybe that was what made them work so well together: not the times when they fought and madeup beautifully or when they shared life altering experiences, but the times when they just held on.

Darkness flooded Dean and Cas' room as soon as the door clicked shut, leaving the pair to blunder the the bed blindly. Both stripped down to t-shirts and underwear, throwing on worn pajama pants. They collapsed under the covers and drifted towards each other until each gripped the other tightly.

Dean's arms snaked around Cas' waist warmly, pulling him flush against his chest. His forehead rested against the other man's. One of Cas' hands gripped Dean's shirt while the other splayed across the middle of his spine.

Both were bruised and bloody from the previous fight only hours earlier, but neither cared enough to do anything about it. That was always what the mornings after were for: recovery. A long gash ran from the top of Dean's forehead almost to his eye and had been stitched hastily on the ride home. Various bruises covered the skin over his ribs and chest. He would be sore the next day, no doubt. Cas was more or less the same, bruised in several different places. His hands were cracked in different areas where he had had to resort to punching.

The two remained silent, not needing to speak nor wanting to. They clung to each other, though, breathing in each other's scent. Dean leaned downa few inches and connected his lips with Cas', moving slowly with him. All of their hurt and pain was poured into that kiss, showing one another how much they were needed.

When Dean pulled away, he gently took Cas' hand away from his shirt and kissed each bruised knuckle. It was his way of reminding Cas that the damage wasn't his fault.

Soon enough, Cas' forehead was back on Dean's. The former angel watched as Dean stared back at him, having a silent conversation. After hours of this, they began to drift off together. Green eyes fluttering shut right after blue ones.

As each drifted into unconsciousness, whispered 'I love you's could be heard in the darkness.

Maybe that was what made them work so well together: not the times when they fought and madeup beautifully or when they shared life altering experiences, but the times when they just held on.


End file.
